


The Tunnel

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has been sent to go through a tunnel and meet Sherlock on the other side.  However all is not as it first appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tunnel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's Watson's Woes Spooktacular Month

John Watson, ex-army doctor, swallowed nervously. He had entered the tunnel confidently, following Sherlock’s instructions. Initially all had been well, until he had taken an unexpectedly sharp corner and there was no longer any external light to help him see. Hearing a sound behind him he swung round, but could see nothing despite carrying a powerful torch. He turned back to continue along the tunnel, although now the light from his torch seemed half what it had been. 

A few more steps and the tunnel seemed narrower and somehow damper. He knew the tunnel was brick-lined throughout. An old tunnel, originally built in the late-seventeenth century as an escape route for the owners of the country house, it had subsequently been widened to provide an alternate way to bring in heavy goods and had even been used as an air raid shelter during the war. John put out his hand to feel the tunnel wall and was startled to find mud not brick.

He turned to look at the wall to see if he could discover where the brick had changed to mud, thinking perhaps the middle of the tunnel had never been bricked after all, but was unable to see any brickwork. As he looked forward again he realised his torchlight was even dimmer. 

Another few paces and John slipped. The tunnel was now sloping downwards at quite a steep angle. This he knew had to be wrong. He must have taken the wrong route, although he had not known the tunnel branched. He turned round and began to retrace his steps. The upward slope seemed to go on forever and he was sure he had only taken a few steps downwards. 

A groan behind him caused him to spin round to search for the origin of the noise. Once more he could see nothing there. Turning to continue his journey, his torch failed completely.

#####

Sherlock was surprised when John did not emerge from the tunnel. He decided to give him a few minutes longer and in the meantime sent off a couple of quick texts to Lestrade, pointing out how obvious everything was and demanding immediate response to the questions he would email.

When John still hadn’t appeared five minutes later Sherlock shook his head at how useless people were at following even the simplest of instructions and set about composing his email to Lestrade, concentrating on using as many one syllable words as he could manage.

Fifteen minutes, and three rude texts from Lestrade later, Sherlock decided something had to have happened to John. It was conceivable the tunnel would have prevented John’s phone from having any signal in order to summon help and Sherlock felt a twinge of regret he hadn’t acted sooner.

He walked the whole way through the tunnel, but found no-one. He emerged blinking into the daylight and looked around to see if he could spot John. There was no-one of his likeness in the vicinity. He checked his phone, but the only message was a further rude text from Lestrade. Sherlock would have to retrace his steps through the tunnel and see if there was any signs of something untoward having happened.

The tunnel was dark and John had the torch, but Sherlock’s phone gave off a strong light which he used to scan the tunnel as he walked. Then he heard familiar footsteps.

He swung round, saying, “Ah John, where have you been? I’ve had to come and look for you.”

Only there was nobody there. Mystified, Sherlock turned back and realised the battery must be fading on his phone, as the light from it had dimmed considerably. He swung the light from side to side, still looking for clues, when he saw he was walking along mud, not brick. He was puzzled. He hadn’t noticed the change and from all he’d read the tunnel was brickwork all the way along. It was strange, but for the moment irrelevant, so he continued on his way.

Suddenly he heard John call his name. Instantly he turned, but once more there was no sign of anyone. A lesser man would have found this worrying; Sherlock merely wrote it off as wishful thinking. Of more immediate concern, his phone battery was failing fast and he could barely see his way forward.

He knew without any light he could make no attempt to search for John and therefore his only course of action was to leave the tunnel and find a torch from somewhere. He would also need to charge his phone. He started to run, but hadn’t realised the tunnel was heading downwards, he slipped and unable to stop himself fell heavily, dropping his phone and groaning as he hit the ground.

#####

John became aware of voices in the distance. He started to make his way towards them, thinking he could follow from a distance and find his way out. But as he drew closer he realised these weren’t the voices of a happy family on an outing - and not even those of an unhappy family with a parent urging them forward positively and the complaining offspring trailing behind - but these voices were angry and dangerous.

Cautiously, with one hand on the wall of the tunnel, John felt his way along. He could see a chink of light ahead, which appeared to come from a side turning. John sped up, still trying to move as silently as possible, not wishing to draw attention to himself.

He rounded the corner, breathing a sigh of relief at the light coming down the corridor. His relief was short-lived, as the corridor was blocked with something like a perspex wall. It diffused the light, but John could still see through. He realised he was looking at another tunnel, one which looked remarkably similar to the tunnel he had begun his journey along, before he had somehow taking a wrong turn. The perspex he was looking through appeared to be part of the tunnel wall, although he didn’t remember reading anything about it in the guide book.

He looked for where the voices had come from and saw men working on making the brick walls of the tunnel and further down others were widening the earthen tunnel. He wondered if this was a historical re-enactment, but there had been no signs advertising it and surely people would be expected to pay for such a detailed performance.

Curious he looked across the tunnel to see a matching perspex wall on the other side. And behind that wall he could see Sherlock. He felt a great sense of relief at seeing him. He banged on the wall to attract Sherlock’s attention, but there was no sound. He waved, but realised unless Sherlock looked at him he wouldn’t notice; two thick layers of perspex would make most movements indistinct.

Sherlock was clearly watching something happening in the other half of the tunnel. John turned to look. What appeared to be two foremen were arguing with a tall dark-haired man, whilst a shorter fairer man stood nearby. One of the foremen swung his fist and knocked the taller man to his knees. John glanced across the tunnel and saw Sherlock also kneel. A second blow and the workman collapsed on the ground. John could just make out the crumpled body of his friend behind the perspex.

John tried to think. _He’s not dead, he’s only unconscious. He’ll come round in a minute. He ain’t dead; them bastards haven’t killed him yet._

He gave a start. _Think Watson, something’s not right here._

The fair-haired man gave a similar start.

The foreman sneered, “Didn’t think we’d do that did you?”

_I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them all!_

_No you won’t. That won’t help Sherlock, or whatever your friend’s name is._

The man took a step back, his clenched fists evidence of his ongoing wish for revenge. Then he knelt down beside the body. “You’ve killed him!” he said. _They haven’t but this way they’ll leave him be._

“In which case take a shovel and bury his body in that ditch.” The foreman pointed to a spot directly below where Sherlock had collapsed.

The man did as instructed and once the foremen had left returned to pull the body of his friend across to his designated burial spot. The dark-haired man started to move and John was pleased to see Sherlock beginning to sit up.

“Lie down,” the fair-haired man said. “They think you’re dead. You’ll have to wait till night time and then you can scarper. I’ll meet you by the oak before cock crow tomorrow.”

Sherlock meanwhile was trying to stand, his actions being mirrored by the injured man below him.

_If he moves we’ll both be done for._

John considered himself a rational man, who had no place in his life for telepathy, but at this instant he wasn’t going to refuse to try something when it appeared to be the only way forward. He concentrated hard: _Sherlock, Sherlock, lie down, you must lie down._

To his great relief Sherlock obeyed, as did the other.

John sat down on the floor of his part of the tunnel. He had no idea what would happen next, but if he had to wait for night-time and the supposedly dead man’s escape then that was what he would do. He watched as the fair-haired man headed off down the tunnel after the other workers, disappearing into the darkness.

It was once more completely black in the tunnel. John put his hand up to feel the perspex, but it was no longer there. Uncertain what he would find, John was making his way carefully across the tunnel, when he tripped and fell heavily.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. He stopped, worried his shout would attract unwanted attention.

“John! Where have you been?”

“In this tunnel for rather longer than I would wish. What are you doing here?”

“I came to look for you. Then I dropped my phone. Use your torch to help me find it.”

“Can’t. The battery’s flat. That’s why I’ve been in here for so long.”

“Okay. Let’s just get out of this tunnel. I’ll get a new phone.”

John was surprised at how keen Sherlock was to leave the tunnel, but, since he had no wish to remain there any longer than necessary, he agreed.

Once back in the daylight Sherlock said, “I’ve done everything I need to do here. Let’s go and find a pub, since I assume you’ll want lunch.”

They had driven about five miles when John spotted a pub. “There’s the Royal Oak, do you think that will do?”

Sherlock turned off the road and pulled up in the car park. Having got out of the car he seemed to hesitate before walking towards the pub.

“What are you looking for?” John asked.

“Oh, nothing. I don’t believe in ghosts.”


End file.
